ExperienceRating: Teen and UpOriginal/Fandom: Stargate: SG-1Characters: Cam, SamSummary: Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.Notes: written for writerverse Phase 5 Table of Doom prompt: I feel the need, the need for speed.Word Count: 941

It had been a godawful fuckup of a mission from start to finish. Cam thanked god - and did that phrase ever have all new meaning since the Ori had come to town - but he was thankful just the same that he had been the only one seriously injured. He was the only who’d been kept in the infirmary overnight. Several nights, to be precise. The fact that the rest of the team had walked out under their own power was probably the only thing that had saved him from getting a one-way ticket to Minot.

The sleeve of his leather jacket caught as he was easing into it and he winced as it tugged his shoulder into an uncomfortable position. He wasn't stupid; he knew General O'Neill was keeping a close eye on the SGC, and an even closer one on anything to do with SG-1. He still wasn't sure why he had been tapped for this assignment. Maybe the general really thought the others wouldn't come back and that Cam wouldn't be playing war games with his team. Maybe he thought he saw something in Cam that Cam hadn't quite seen in himself yet; either way, the general was probably giving some pretty serious second thoughts to his decision right now.

Cam finally got the jacket on and gave one more cursory look at the contents of his locker. Wallet and keys in his pockets; everything else could stay. A wave of memory hit him: smoke, screams, the feel of the knife piercing muscle as he turned frantically trying to get eyes on Teal'c, Jackson, Sam. He slammed the locker door closed and leaned into it, soaking up the cold pressure against his forehead, his knuckles. He punched it, lightly, feeling the pain resonate up his arm and accumulate into the ache in his shoulder. He should have pulled them out. Why didn't he give the fucking order?

With a grunt, he pushed off the locker and headed out the door, only to pull up short at the sight of Sam leaning against the wall opposite. She was obviously off duty, dressed similarly to him in jeans, boots, and leather jacket. She was also obviously waiting for him and fell into step next to him without a word as he headed for the elevator.

The ride to the surface was silent and slightly awkward. Cam didn't know what to say, torn between defending himself and apologizing to her. Sam didn't seem in a rush to say anything, either. They just watched the numbers slowly count down to eleven, went through security, and then finished the ride to the surface.

As they approached the parking lot, Sam grabbed his uninjured arm and deftly re-directed him to the motorcycle parking. He frowned when he saw his bike there.

"I brought it out for you." She slipped his helmet off the handlebar and handed it to him, before doing the same thing with her own, hanging on her bike one space over.

"Try to keep up!" she challenged as she mounted her bike, turned the ignition, and took off.

Very confused, slightly wary, but with no better plans for the afternoon, he followed her. She drove sedately through the security checkpoints, briskly through the Springs proper, but once they passed the city limits, she opened it up. Cam grinned and followed right behind as she led him along a series of roads that grew progressively more deserted. Some small part of his brain worried, hoping she knew what she was doing, hoping there weren't any speed traps around, because he was pretty sure that a reckless driving citation on top of that last mission would kill his career. Then Sam boosted her speed again and it was just about keeping up with her, judging road conditions, wind resistance, and the shivery thrill of adrenaline.

He missed this, the simple connection between man and machine, where every decision he faced had a right answer, answers he could see as plain as day. These split-second judgments were so much easier than those that he had time to reflect on, to second-guess, to screw up.

They’d been riding for just over an hour when Sam slowed down and pulled off the road. Cam pulled up next to her.

"Well, this was unexpected," he commented once their helmets were off.

She offered him a swig from the water bottle she produced from somewhere. He took it, swallowed, and sighed.

"You told me, you told me that it was gonna go down like that."

"I didn't know anything, Cam. I gave you my opinion, as did Daniel and Teal'c. You took everything into consideration and you made your decision."

"Yeah, a bad one," he drawled.

She shrugged. "Probably won't be the last one, unless you let this chase you out of the program. You're not the first one of us to screw up, Cam. Believe me, we have all made choices that in retrospect we really shouldn't have."

Sam reached out and put her hand over his where he was taking his time screwing the cap back on the bottle. "I mean it."

He looked up to see her smiling at him. "We trust you, Cam. You just need to trust yourself."

He blew out a breath. “Yeah, yeah, I guess I can do that.”

The ride back to the Springs was slower. Sam peeled off with a wave once they hit the city, probably heading back to the Mountain. Cam continued on home and let himself into his apartment, aching and tired, but ready to get some sleep and face another day at the Mountain.